


Lavender Memories

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, F/M, Gen, Romance, Series: Nothing Lasts Forever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-07-24
Updated: 1999-07-24
Packaged: 2018-11-10 15:01:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11129208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Ben experiences a gamut of memories and emotions as he journeys through his father's footlocker. This story is a sequel toWinter in America is Cold.





	Lavender Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Hi everyone,

A quick note of introduction--beginning with this story, I will be using my penname of Cassandra Hope. I hope this isn't too confusing <g>

 

Disclaimer: This story is written for the private entertainment of fans. The author makes no claims on the characters or their portrayal by the creation of this story. Fraser, Vecchio, et.al. belong to Alliance; the McKenzies and friends belong to me. Cat Madden belongs to Carol Trendall and is used in this story with her permission. No infringement of any copyrights held by CBS, Alliance, CTV or any other copyright holders of DUE SOUTH is intended. This story is not published for profit, and the author does not give permission for this story to be reproduced for profit.

Thanks to Carol Trendall for sharing her poem, _One_ , with me and allowing me to use its words in this story.

Lavender Memories

By Cassandra Hope

(Copyright May 1997 Revised July 1999)

R

unning--his  
heart beating faster...he felt like he had run for miles. Ever since  
his return from Canada three weeks previously he had run. Why was he  
punishing himself by running in the heat? The lonely coldness he still  
felt was no reason to push himself longer and harder in this heat but,  
still, he ran. _'She never married...'_ echoed in his mind.

Benton Fraser slowed then came to a stop, bent over, and breathed deeply. He expelled the air slowly, then breathed in again. He repeated this ritual several times attempting to cleanse his lungs of all stale air. It was a futile effort, what with the pollution and the general state of the air in Chicago, but it was the best he could do. He gagged slightly on a choice scent that must have originated from the vicinity of the meatpacking district. His companion's nose eagerly tracked the rank smell and his lupine ears pricked with anticipation.

"No, Dief, we are **not** rummaging through any garbage cans, refuse bins, or trash carrels tonight!" Benton Fraser turned indulgent eyes toward the pleading wolf sitting at his feet. "Can't you think of something more constructive to do with your time than be a nuisance to the sanitation department?"

*Woof* Dief fervently hoped Alpha Male had forgotten about that little escapade with his friends.

As if reading the wolf's mind, Ben grunted, "And **no** , I have not forgotten about that incident with those garbage cans last year. It almost cost you your life!" Ben wiped the sweat from his face, stretched his arms over his head, and began to walk back the way they had come. Diefenbaker fell in step with him.

The wolf regarded the man he paced beside _. 'You save a human's life and you pay and pay and pay!'_ he thought. Now, **that** little misunderstanding with the animal control people had nothing to do with those garbage cans! Granted, his friends **were** a little on the wild side but Maggie was different.

*Woof*

"All right, I understand...you had to protect your mate. Couldn't you have, at least, told me about her? Why did I have to be the last to know?" Didn't the wolf trust him enough to share something as important as a mate with him? They stopped to wait for the light to change to green then proceeded across the street.

Dief rolled his eyes. Look who was talking! Did Alpha Male trust him enough to tell him about the Lavender Woman? Why did his packmate have to wait until after the Dark Woman had nearly killed both of them to tell him about the female he could scent on the pieces of paper? Sometimes he despaired of Alpha Male ever finding the right female.

*Woof*

Startled, Ben stopped and stared at his companion. "I beg your pardon! What has my love life got to do with yours?" How dare he think that Ben's bad luck might rub off on him!

*Woof* Well--Alpha Male's love life was pitiful. He just didn't know how to enjoy life and, especially, how to pick the right mate.

Ben resumed walking. Gesturing with his hands, he mumbled, "Yes, I have to admit that you have done admirably whereas I have apparently struck out--again. What is it with me, Dief? Why can't I fall in love with the right woman? Why do I always pick the wrong one to fall in love with? For instance, Victoria..."

*Growl* Just the mention of that name made his hackles rise. The though of her throat between his jaws, her warm blood in his mouth was enough to...

"I know, I know, and you have a right to hate her. I'm sorry that she shot you, but it's not my fault. She wasn't the woman I thought she was." Regret lingered in his voice.

Who was Alpha Male kidding? She could never be **that** one. Dief had seen the way his packmate protected that shoebox with the lavender scented pieces of paper. An even fainter scent of a female clung to the pieces of paper and contents of that box. Now **that** was the right one!

*Woof*

"What do you mean _'she can never be that one'_? What do you know?" What could he know? Dief had never met Phil and he had rarely talked about her. But ever since the shooting, he had told Dief more and more about Phil. He had poured his heart out to Cat, but Cat wasn't here. It helped to talk about her to someone--and he had sworn never to tell Ray about her. But what **could** the wolf know?

*Woof* What did Alpha Male think he was doing all that time at the Cat Woman's house? He heard what the two of them talked about but, then again, they thought he was deaf. He recognized the scent in the empty bedroom as the same one on those pieces of paper. He asked the cats about the Lavender Woman and they told him about the new friend--the one to whom Bella had given one of her kittens. 

Dief sighed, not another female with a cat. Didn't Alpha Male know any females with dogs or a nice she-wolf? Not that he would really notice a female other than Maggie but, still, it would be nice to visit someone who had a dog instead of a cat.

"I thought you liked Cat. You certainly act like you like Sheila and Bella, and, may I remind you...who was it insisted on playing with the kittens in the middle of the night?" Ben chuckled as he remembered the sight of one arctic wolf totally cowed by three very playful kittens. "That was a big mistake!"

*Woof* At least he didn't make stupid mistakes like Victoria.

Know-it-all wolf! Thought he knew everything. Ben glared down at the wolf, but the smug look on Dief's face said it all. Deciding to change the direction of the conversation, Ben asked, "What do you think of Inspector Thatcher?"

*Whine*

"Now be fair, Dief. If you hadn't chosen to relieve yourself on Turnbull as he stood guard duty, she wouldn't have banned you from the consulate for a month. Just because Renfield ate the last donut--which I might add was **not** yours--was no excuse to do what you did!" Ben glanced down at the pacing wolf. There was no sign of repentance in the lupine face turned to his. He sighed and spoke encouragingly, "After all, it could have been worse. Inspector Thatcher could have permanently restricted you from the consulate."

*Woof* Alpha Male had seemed interested in that female, but she wasn't the Lavender Woman. **She** wasn't the right one for him, either. Any female that didn't like animals--particularly wolves--could never be the right one.

"What do you mean _'she's not the right one'_? How would you know who was the right one?"

Honestly, sometimes his packmate could be so dense _. 'Did he really believe I was sleeping all those times? Cat Woman was right!'_ Dief rolled his eyes. It looked like he would have to enlighten him--again.

*Woof*

Ben stopped in his tracks. He stared at Diefenbaker. The lavender female? Lavender? Lavender...Ben closed his eyes. Even now he could picture the face framed by the lavender scented hair. A lavender scent that clung to the pillow she slept on--letters she wrote. How did the wolf know about the lavender scented letters? 

"Dief? How..."

*Snort* Just look at the way Alpha Male mooned over those pieces of paper. He was worse than a Pekinese in heat.

"I do **not** moon over them." That was the truth. He had not read them in almost a year. Not since Victoria...not since he had learned the difference between being loved and being used. He had almost relented and read them after that last visit with Cat. But he had maintained and not delved into those remnants of a happier time. Now here a wolf was reminding him, no less, about his mistakes.

What had started this train of thought? Why was Phil's ghost being resurrected to haunt him? Ben stopped and watched Diefenbaker sniff out the trail of some marauding junk food. He closed his eyes. He didn't really know what has unsettled him. Maybe it was the visit with his friend, Cat--Cathy Madden, RCMP--his first love and, now, his dearest friend, next to Ray. No, this had started long before that. He opened his eyes but his sight was turned inward. It had started over 11 years ago on a mountainside with a woman who could never know the true meaning of love. It had started with a short letter to Phil that had condemned him to this life of loneliness. It shook him to realize how such a small act as writing a letter could have such long lasting effects. How had it affected Phil?

Cat told him she met Phil and her brothers. There was a special tenderness in her voice when she mentioned TJ. She related the story of the escaped prisoner, his hostage, and the rescue. Ben closed his eyes and relived the fear and panic that coursed through him as Cat related the story. What if Phil had died, trapped in that mine shaft? But, thankfully, Cat's intuition had served her true. Phil was rescued and a friendship formed between the two women. The shock of Cat telling him of Phil still held him.

__

'Phil was taken hostage by Landers, but she got away when the bear attacked. She's a smart girl, Ben. Every bit as wonderful as you said she was. We spent some time together after she got out of hospital. We talked about you and found that we shared many things. It's even harder now for me understand how you could have left her for Victoria. As with anything you undertake, when you make a mistake you do it thoroughly and completely.

She's not involved with anyone. She never marriedsays she hasn't met the right man. I think she's afraid of being hurt again..'.

He remembered the things Cat told him he had cried out in the night so many years ago. He didn't remember them but recognized the sentiment of each as being genuine. 

"I'll never love anyone the way I love you, Phil," Ben repeated it aloud. It was just as true now as it had been years ago. As for the other thing he had spoken in his sleep, he didn't know how true it was. He bowed his head and let it flow from his mouth in a whisper, "Phil, please help me, you're the only one who can save me." A frisson of fear cut across his thoughts. _'Am I asking too much? **Are** you the only one who can warm me? Phil, I don't know anymore. All I know is I am freezing to death in my loneliness and I don't know how much more I can take. I am so lonely, Phil.'_

Ben looked up at the late afternoon sky and sighed at the haziness in the air. A sudden wave of homesickness assailed him and he bowed his head. Straightening, he conceded defeat.

"Let's head back to the apartment, Dief." The rest of their walk was done in silence.

* * *

Ben leaned against the bricked-up fireplace, wishing for a fire. His eyes lightly grazed the collection of photos on the mantle finally settling on the latest addition--a photo of Cat and Phil. He stared at the two women--the two women who had loved him unreservedly. He hung his head. He didn't deserve their love. Turning his back on the fireplace he let his gaze slowly move across his spartan apartment. One complete circuit then his eyes moved to his bed.

The old wooden footlocker sat in its accustomed place. Ben stared at it then reached for the journal lying atop it. It opened to the last entry marked with one of the photos of Phil that Cat had given him. He stared at it, then set it aside. Leaning back against the wall at the head of his bed, he began reading.

**__**

14 April 1968

I don't know if I can put my feelings into words. How can I adequately describe the despair and sorrow that has consumed me. I stared at a crocus today, not marking its loveliness or the promise of spring it bore. I stared at it but only saw the bleakness of my life--the emptiness of the years to come. Caroline, my beloved spouse, is dead.

The news waited for me upon my return from tracking and capturing Brian Fuller. If I had know what awaited me, I would have let Fuller kill me. How can I continue without my Caroline? She was my lover, my companion, the mother of my children, my stability in this world. Just knowing she was there kept me going. What am I going to do now? I don't know if I have the strength to endure this trial. It would be so much easier to simply walk out that door and walk until I collapsed in some snowbank and died.

I tried to do just that, but the crocus in the snow stopped me. It reminded me that even the bleakest of winters pass and spring comes again. Life goes on and so must I. Benton and Becka need me more than ever. How am I going to raise my children without their loving mother?

I will ask for a transfer to a larger settlement--some place where I can have my children with me. Surely, I can plead a hardship case. Surely they will grant me that.

But...what do I know of raising children? Benton is a strong independent child--barely six; and little Becka--motherless at the age of four. How can they possibly comprehend what has happened? I can scarcely believe it myself. How can I live without my Caroline? She was the other half of my soul. How can I go on living when half of me is dead?

Ben laid the journal aside, fighting the tears that threatened. He swallowed carefully but the lump refused to go. Leaning his head back, he gave into the memories of the time shortly after his mother had died. Most of his memories centered on his father's beard. Both he and his sister had watched their father's beard grow as their father wasted away from grief. And, then one morning, he and Becka came down for breakfast and there was oatmeal with bananas and their father was clean shaven and he was crying. He remembered being drawn into the circle of his father's arms--being pulled up to sit on one leg and Becka on the other. His father hugged them both so tight they thought they would never be able to breathe again. Ben remembered the look in his father's eyes--a look of infinite sadness and love. All he could do was return the hug and whisper, _"I love you, Dad."_

He remembered his dad saying, " _I love you, too, Benton. And you, too, my little poppet."_ That was the only time Ben remembered his father actually saying he loved him.

"That was a bleak time in my life, Caroline." Bob Fraser put an arm around his wife's shoulders. She snuggled into the crook of his arm. Bob turned his head slightly and placed a kiss on her forehead. "How am I going to help him through this mess?"

"Just help him through this evening. As much as it will pain him, he needs to relive his memories so he can start anew." Caroline watched their son wipe the tears from his cheeks and press the palms of his hands to his eyes.

Ben swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood, then carefully stepped over the sleeping wolf and went to his dresser. Digging through the top drawer, he retrieved the key to his father's locker. Returning to the bed, he slid onto the floor beside the wooden trunk. It had been ages since he had last journeyed through the contents of the locker. He idly stroked the sleeping wolf before pulling his knees up and resting his arms on them. 

Ben contemplated the locker. The first time he had gone through its contents had been shortly after his father's death. Now it was his and he had added his own treasures to those of his father's. He rubbed his forehead with his clasped hands. Closing his eyes, he let his mind drift where it willed.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Afraid it's going to bite you?" Bob Fraser asked, his voice echoing in the gathering gloom.

Ben raised his face to confront his father's presence. "Hello, Dad. I was just thinking about you."

A sympathetic look creased Bob's weathered features. "I know, Son. That's why I'm here."

"Oh? I thought you only showed up when I needed your advice. Is there something going on that I don't know about?" Ben raked a thumb across his left eyebrow.

"Not that I'm aware of. I just thought I'd drop by and chew the fat with you. We never really talked to each other when I was alive."

"I know, Dad and I'm sorry."

Bob waved his hand in negation. "Nothing to be sorry for, Son. It was as much my fault as yours."

"Still...it doesn't make me feel any better." Ben's eyes moved around the room before returning to his father's visage. "There was so much I wanted to say to you, but didn't...so much I wanted to share with you, but didn't...so much I wanted to do with you, but didn't..." 

"I know, Benton. I feel the same. At least, I think I feel the same. Can't really be sure, being dead and all that."

Smiling weakly, Ben agreed. "Yes, I can see how that might confuse your feelings."

An uncomfortable silence settled between the two. Finally, Bob spoke, "So...what did you want me for?"

"I don't recall wanting you, exactly."

"Of course, you did. Why else would I be here?"

"I don't know. Could it be that, maybe, you wanted to be here?" 

Even Bob could hear the hope in Ben's voice. "You know, you could be right," he said with a fatherly smile. He settled his ample frame next to Ben's and nudged the locker with his boot. "So, you gonna open this or not?"

Ben sent a grateful smile toward his father's image then bent to the task of unlocking the chest. Throwing back the lid, both Frasers stared into the depths of the chest. A gentle fragrance wafted from its depths. 

Bob closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "Ahhh--lavender--reminds me of your mother." His eyes opened and he smiled across at Caroline, who had settled on the bed.

Ben looked at him in surprise. "It does? I didn't know that, Dad."

"Yes, your mother loved lavender. It's possibly the one thing about her that I remember with the greatest clarity. Everything she wore eventually smelled of lavender. Even her hair carried the scent." Engrossed in his memories, Bob smiled dreamily at Caroline. 

"I don't remember that, Robert!" The look she sent him was full of love and tenderness. Her smile reflected his.

He smiled back at her then sat up and peered into the locker. "I don't remember having anything of Caroline's in here. For that matter, I don't remember it being this full. Benton?"

"I've...I've added some of my things to your locker, Dad. I keep my 'treasures' in here with yours." Ben hastily added.

"Really? And just what might those be?" His eyebrows raised inquiringly.

Eagerly, Ben asked, "Would you like to see?"

Bob smiled and nodded. Ben carefully began to remove the contents of the locker. "Why--that's my old revolver and...is that my rifle? You keep them in this chest?"

Ben laid the firearms on the bed before answering his father. "Yes, Dad. I keep your gun, your rifle, and my gun in the chest. If you hadn't notice, it's the only thing that locks around here."

Bob glanced around the spartan apartment then nodded his head. "Quite right, Benton. Smart thinking."

Ben gradually removed Bob's journals placing them in a stack beside the trunk. He stacked his own journals next to his father's. 

"I see you took my advice about writing out your thoughts." Bob motioned toward the small stack of books.

Ben nodded his head. "I only wish now that I had started writing sooner. It has helped me deal with some hard times, difficult situations."

"Understood," he calmly replied and Bob did understand. He contentedly watched Ben remove the metal tin containing his medals and the pictures Ben had drawn as a child. The next object pulled from the trunk was a small ornate frame. He watched Ben stroke the glass in the frame before turning it to face his father. Bob smiled and accepted the picture from Ben. "Ah, Caroline...she was such a beautiful woman."

"And still am, if **you** are to be believed!" Caroline shot at Bob. They shared a loving smile then Caroline rose from the bed. "I'll leave you two to your man-to-man talk. I think I'll visit Phil and see how she's doing."

"Good-bye, Dearest." Ben gave his father a startled look. Bob chuckled, "I remember when this photo was taken. You were only about 6 months old." Bob sat back and closed his eyes. "We were so proud of you. We wanted the whole world to share our happiness..." He passed the frame back to his son. Ben carefully laid it aside.

Bob leaned over and stared down into the depths of the footlocker. "What are all these books? They're certainly not mine!"

"No, Dad. They're mine. Grandmother insisted that I read and, well, you know Inuvik. There's a **lot** of time to read." Bob chuckled. Ben removed the books one at a time.

"Wait a minute. That one looks vaguely familiar." Bob took the dog-eared book from Ben. " _'20,000 Leagues Under the Sea'_ \--that brings back a lot of memories. What's that one?" He had noticed Ben's surreptitious attempt to hide the small book from him. "Let me see that one," and he held out his hand. As much as he didn't want his father reading the small book, force of habit saw him handing it over.

"Hmmm? _Selected Works of Prose and Poetry_." Bob opened the book and was startled when Ben's hand shot out to capture the pressed flower that slid from the pages of the book.

"I'm sorry, Dad--didn't mean to startle you." Ben cupped the dried flower in his hands.

"That's quite alright, Son. It's nice to know that I can still **be** startled. What have you got there?"

Ben stared at the dried flower in his hands. Slowly his fingers uncurled until his father was able to see it. Bob leaned closer examining the faded flower. "Ah...if I'm not mistaken that's _Aquilegia_ _jonsii_ , limestone columbine."

"Actually its _Aquilegia_ _coerulea_ , blue columbine." Ben cradled the flower as memories washed over him.

Bob examined the flower again. "Quite right you are, Son. Don't know how I could have made a mistake like that." He paused then continued, "So, Benton...I never pictured you as one to save a flower." He looked at the book again. It had opened to the frontispiece. His eyes sought Ben's before returning to read the inscription there. Satisfied, he turned his gaze to his son. Indicating the book, he spoke, "This explains it. That's one of Phil's columbines, isn't it?"

Ben reached for the book and replaced the flower between its pages. He stared at the small book then swallowed before answering his father's question. "Yes, Dad. I picked it from her flower bed that last day I spent with her--the day I asked her to marry me." He felt the gentle weight of a hand on his shoulder. How was this possible? How could he feel the weight of his father's hand?

Bob leaned forward and dropped his voice. "That was one whopper of a mistake you made there, Benton." He lightly tapped the book in Ben's hands with a finger. "Not that asking her to marry you was a mistake. No, the mistake came later when you broke the engagement." He sadly shook his head. "You know, Cat was right. Your actions were selfish. You were so tied up in your own feelings that you forgot what you were doing to others--to Cat and to Phil. I still cannot understand what you saw in Victoria..."

"I can't either, Dad. But I did and now I have to live with it," Ben reflected with some bitterness.

"I know, Son. We all make mistakes that haunt us. Sometimes we can right the wrong we did and sometimes...sometimes we never get the chance to set things aright. You want to know what my biggest mistake was?"

Ben turned a puzzled look on his father's image. "I don't recall you ever making a mistake--well aside from the one that got you killed."

"That was a bad one, I'll grant you that. No, the mistake I regret the most is never taking the time to really get to know you and Becka. I should have pushed harder for that assignment that would have allowed me to be with you...and now it's too late." He stopped and stared at Ben. "Son, if you ever get the chance to rectify any mistakes you've made...do it. Don't let anything stand in your way--not your pride, your feelings, or even what others might think. Sometimes all you need to set things right is the courage to do it. Sometimes all you need is that second chance."

"Dad? I have the feeling you're trying to tell me something."

"Could be, Son. Could be." And with that cryptic remark Bob Fraser faded from view.

"I don't know, Robert. I hope that was enough." Caroline patted Bob's arm.

"I do to, Love. But, ultimately, it's up to him." Bob and Caroline took one last look at their son as he placed the book with its captive flower on the stack of journals. They smiled at each other and left Ben to sort through the remainder of his 'treasures.'

Long after his father left him, Ben sat on the floor beside the locker. Shaking himself, he reached into the locker and removed the ragged pillowcase. He slid his hand into the confines of the case and removed the whale tooth. He closed his eyes, briefly hearkening back to the time when he was blinded in the car accident and the carving on the tooth had anchored him to reality. He buried his face in the pillowcase and remembered his beloved great-grandfather. 'Ganggan' had carved the legend of whale, old crow, and dog on the whale tooth they had found on that walk to the beach. Ben basked in the love the old man had showered on him. He caressed the scrimshaw letting his fingers 'read' the story once more. Reverently he placed the tooth back in the old pillowcase, then set it on the floor beside the locker.

Ben quickly removed the Chilkat blanket, a gift from Eric, his Tsimshian friend, letting his fingers trail over the goat hair and cedar bark of its making. He set it aside and removed a small white seal pelt. Wrapped within its softness was his Inuit story knife. He removed the knife from the pelt and held it to the light, briefly scanning the story of Raven and the Evil Magician etched on the blade before placing it with the blanket and the pillowcase containing the scrimshaw. He smiled when his hands encountered one of his most prized possessions. He carefully drew the ragged toy and the sewing box out of the depths of the locker. Rabbit. He cuddled the stuffed animal to his chest and closed his eyes in contentment. It surprised him how much comfort the toy gave him. He felt tension he did not know he had drain from his neck and shoulders. Smiling, the rabbit joined the other treasures on the floor. What he wanted was at the bottom of the locker--the small battered shoebox.

His memories of Phil ensconced in one small box. A box that had gone with him from posting to posting--small, easily stashed in the bottom of his backpack. Never once had he contemplating discarding it. Although rarely opened in the 11 years since leaving Phil, just knowing it was there helped him overcome some bad times. He opened it after Victoria; the love he felt from the letters helping heal the damage to his life **she** had wrought.

He retrieved the shoebox and pressed his forehead to its surface inhaling the lavender scent that seeped from its interior. How could they still retain that scent after so many years? Why did his heartbeat quicken with that scent? Why did that tear insist on creeping down his cheek? Why did Cat have to remind him of Phil? He was doing just fine until she reminded him of what he lost. And his father was no better--talking about righting mistakes--as if he could, as if he wanted to. Did he want to right that mistake? He knew the answer before he even asked the question. Shivering with loneliness, he missed her with an ache that cut through every fiber in his body.

Shakily, he set the box on the side of the bed and untied the leather bootlace. The lid slid off and a stronger scent of lavender caressed Ben's senses. He reached for the photo of Phil he had removed from his father's journal. He settled back onto the floor and stared at the small image in the photo. Using his finger, he traced the curve of her crooked smile. His finger covered her entire face but that was all right--it was burned into his memory. He would never forget those bottomless eyes and that crooked smile and the lips that had seared his flesh. He closed his eyes and recalled those long nights spent in each other's arms. His eyes flew open when the photo in his hand split. 

__

'I've torn it!' One of only a few photos of Phil and he had torn it. On closer inspection he could see that the photo was intact. He breathed a sigh of relief. A second photo that was stuck to the back of Phil's was now loose. Ben casually turned it over and stared down at the image captured there. His hand shook and the color drained from his face. Victoria.

He held the photo of Victoria in one hand and Phil's in the other. He stared at the two women he had loved. A grim smile crossed his features as he laid Phil's back on the bed. He stared at Victoria's for several minutes before taking it in both hands and slowly ripping it in half. He took the two pieces and tore them in half also. He continued tearing the photo until there wasn't a single piece larger than a fingernail. Taking the pieces to the sink in the kitchen, Ben placed them on a plate and set them on fire. He watched with grim intent until the last fragment curled and turned black. _'As black as her heart,'_ he thought. Taking the ashes of the photo, he ground them to dust beneath his fingers. Finally, he took the sooty dust and flushed it down his toilet. He was surprised at the satisfaction those small acts of vengeance gave him.

*Woof* It's about time he got rid of that picture.

Surprised, Ben turned to regard the wolf. "Dief? I thought you were asleep."

*Whine* How could he sleep with all the goings and comings in their apartment?

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you." Could Dief see his father? Who else had come and gone? He eyed the wolf with suspicion. _'Nah...'_

"Let me show you something." Ben crossed the room to the bed. Dief trailed behind him. Sitting on the side of the bed, Ben held the photo of Phil out for Dief's inspection. "This is Phil McKenzie."

*Woof*

"Yes, I guess you could call her the Lavender Woman."

Dief studied the photo committing the image to memory. He would know the Lavender Woman when next he saw her. Now **this** female was the right one. Ben turned the photo back to himself. He smiled as he regarded the photo. His smile faded and a slight crease appeared in his forehead. Did she seem thinner? Was there a haunted look in her eyes?

* * *

The light of the lantern was subdued and the soft shadows it threw masked the harsh lines of his stark home. Ben lay on his bedroll, the open box beside him. He finished the letter he was reading. 

**__**

...the snow continues to fall and I'm afraid that the forecasted 4 inches is way off the mark. I hate winter when I'm trapped inside my house. I long for spring to arrive so I can again enjoy the freedom warm weather provides. I hiked out to the Point last week but the ice was so thick that I was afraid to climb down to my ledge--so I sat there in the trees above it and thought warm thoughts. Warm because they contained you. Warm because of the memory of your hands and lips...what can I say except that Cat taught you well. You have opened my eyes to feelings and experiences I did not know were possible. Each moment away from you is pure torture.

I know now that no matter where we live I will always be warm with you. As long as I have your love to warm me I can face a year-round winter. I can face your beloved northern wastes. I know that even if winter rages outside--inside I will bask in your summer heat. All I need--all I have ever needed is you.

The days drag by with a slowness I never knew existed. My existence has narrowed to the days when I talk to you or I receive one of your letters. Every other day is lifeless and I long for them to pass quickly so I can be with you again. Send for me soon, my love.

Yours forever,

Phil

'Phil, I wish now that I had sent for you. In fact, I wish I had never left you. I should have stayed with you or taken you with me. If I ever get the chance to make amends...I promise you this, I will never let you go.'

He refolded the letter and placed it with the others in the shoebox. The leather bootlace was retied and the box placed back into the locker. The rest of his 'treasures' were soon replaced inside the locker. Finally, the lid closed and the lock was locked.

Ben reached down beside the head of the bed and found his current journal. He opened it and began writing. 

**__**

Journal entry: 2 August 1996

Today has been a strange one--reminders and memories of Phil--first, the memories of Cat; then Dad and his locker. Even Diefenbaker reminded me of her. Why do I feel like something is going to happen? Something that concerns Phil. Does this mean that I will get a second chance to start over with her? Would she even want to start over with me? After all I did to her, could she forgive me?

I worry about her. Cat said she never married. Did I hurt her so much that she couldn't let herself love another? Did she draw back up into that shell and truly become the Ice Queen? Did what happened so many years ago--what I did to her prevent her from finding happiness? She wanted children--my children--and now she has none. Can she forgive me for what I did to her?

I finally exorcised the last of Victoria's ghost from my life. I have to admit to a small amount of satisfaction as I destroyed her picture. With her shadow finally gone from my life I feel a peace within. All I need to complete my life is Phil. Maybe I will find her again. Maybe she will fill me with her warmth once more and I will no longer feel this bone-chilling cold that surrounds me. 

I don't know what came over me but something inside of me cried out to be released. This small poem is the result. I have finally been able to put some of my feelings over Phil and Victoria into words.

One makes my heart bang away inside my chest

like I was watching a scary movie or about to tell a lie

The other comes on soft, like a summer breeze

or a fragrant spring meadow

One takes my heart with her when she goes

leaving me empty and cold

The other fills my heart with song

leaving me loved

and wondering why I find it so difficult

to choose between one and the other

Now...I find that choice is not difficult at all. I will choose soft summer breezes and fragrant spring meadows and a heart filled with song. I will choose columbines and a crooked smile. I only wish I had made this choice years ago when it would have made a difference.

Ben placed the photo of Phil in his journal, closed it, and laid it aside. Turning off the lantern, he stared at the ceiling above him. The gentle scent of lavender hung in the air and Ben let his mind dwell on it. He turned to stare at the small flowerpot sitting on the sill of the window. He could make out its outline in the moonlight. Lavendera sprig from the bush he planted in Cat's garden--now growing on his windowsill. Someday it would provide him with all the lavender he needed, but for now it was just a tiny green sprout. He returned to his contemplation of the ceiling letting the scent direct his thoughts to his memories of Phil. Lavender memories of the love that had filled his life and made him complete. Maybe, someday, he would get that second chance to correct that mistake he had made. Maybe, someday, new ones would replace his lavender memories. Maybe, someday, his lavender woman would again fill this void in his life. He smiled. Where had Dief come up with that name?

To be continued (?)

Copyright May 1997 by Cassandra Hope

Revised July 1999

Comments are welcome at 

durango@ionet.net

 

Nothing Lasts Forever

(Book 2 of the  
Ben and Phil Saga)

  1. Nothing Lasts Forever
  2. Of Second Chances by Carol Trendall
  3. Winter is Cold in America by Carol Trendall
  4. Lavender Memories
  5. Distractions by Carol Trendall
  6. No Aphrodisiac by Carol Trendall
  7. Life's Insanity by Carol Trendall
  8. Standing on the Edge by Carol Trendall
  9. Of Past Regrets and Future Fears by Carol Trendall
  10. A Summoning of Things Past
  11. Three Parts Dead
  12. A Job Well Done
  13. Touchstones of Character
  14. But For the Night
  15. Tangled Webs
  16. Suspicions
  17. Chasms of the Mind (with Carol Trendall)
  18. Outskirts by Carol Trendall



 


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